


something later tonight

by bassgoboom (misconceptionsof)



Series: one of those nights [1]
Category: SHINee
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Hair-pulling, Kibum's more of a brat than anything.. also Minho calls him a slut, M/M, Overstimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27000487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misconceptionsof/pseuds/bassgoboom
Summary: it starts with a dinner party and a pretty choker
Relationships: Choi Minho/Kim Kibum | Key
Series: one of those nights [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970596
Comments: 11
Kudos: 58
Collections: Kinktober Bingo 2020





	something later tonight

**Author's Note:**

> happy kinktober! bingo spaces used: deepthroating, breathplay, hair pulling, dom/sub dynamics, and overstimulation... enjoy <3

It starts when they’re out in public, as it sometimes does. Minho’s hand at the nape of Kibum’s neck while they’re in a circle of friends, scratching almost absentmindedly. Kibum’s hair is pretty short, but growing out long enough to pull at the bottom of it. It’s nothing, he hums at the feeling, comforted.

It’s like a secret. A moment is just for the two of them.

It’s a nearly semi-formal event, a nice dinner in celebration of a friend’s comeback, and Kibum looks nice, dressed up, wearing a wide choker with a jewel dangling from it, elegant. But it’s something so comfortable and soft that he entirely forgets putting on by the time they get to the main course.

Minho’s lounging, playing with his hair as he does, and lets his fingers slip down just a little farther, so it’s tucked under the fabric, making it just a little tight around his neck.

It doesn’t put pressure on his windpipe, but it’s tight enough to notice, light a little fire under his skin that’s starting to sear. Minho doesn’t even look over at him, keeps sitting and socializing and telling stories, loud and wild with his free hand.

It’s charming. Usually, it’s charming. Right now it’s a little maddening, because while he refuses to look over, a second finger slips underneath the collar, tightening it a bit more. The material doesn’t have much give to it at all, meant to sit high and solid on the neck.

Kibum’s breath hitches just in surprise, and then his fingers are gone from where they were slinked against his skin. Minho’s thumb rubs broad stripes across the area, like he’s soothing a sore spot. He still doesn’t look over.

Once their food comes, Minho takes his hand away, and there’s a little part of Kibum that misses it. The feeling of his hands on him, burning little fires into his skin.

And Kibum’s not the type to let himself crave touch so obviously and desperately-- or, at the very least, he’s convinced himself he’s not this type. But he finds himself itching for it while he eats his meal, watches the others eat theirs, watches Minho’s fingers crawl around his drink or play with his napkin or point excitedly over at someone at the other end of the table.

After they eat and everyone’s reclined in their chairs, Minho’s hand returns. This time he looks over sweetly and slides two fingers underneath the choker, and Kibum can’t tell what kind of face he’s making but Minho smirks as a response before turning back to the table.

He pulls carefully at the fabric, careful not to get it too tight. He knows exactly how much Kibum can take when it comes to this. After however many years it’s been, Minho knows Kibum’s body almost as much as he knows his own.

And then people start to leave, and Kibum lets his own hand crawl onto Minho’s thigh, getting his nails to dig in before they stand up and separate themselves.

The walk to the car is silent, and the ride home is innocent and formal. They ask each other if they had a nice time, about how good the others at the table were looking, about the food and the company and the comeback itself. They continue the conversation all the way up to their apartment, Minho fumbling with his keys at the door while Kibum presses himself closer, breathing slower.

Kibum doesn’t even move to turn the light on before pressing Minho into the wall closest to where their door swings open. His hands are hard and pointed at Minho’s shoulders and he can feel a shiver run up his spine.

“What was that about?” He means for it to come out rough but he can tell by the way Minho looks down at him that his face is giving him away.

“What was what about?”

The door swings shut and with the slam of it comes a biting kiss, rough and almost entirely teeth. Kibum’s hands slither up to Minho’s collarbones, thumbs digging into the skin there, hidden by the collar of his shirt.

Minho smiles into the kiss, absolutely adores when Kibum gets like this. Wound up and fierce. He brings his hand to Kibum’s neck, this time wrapping the entire expanse of it around the front. Careful but strong, just a bit of pressure. Kibum’s all but forced to pull back just a little bit.

There’s a little spark that catches both of their eyes, a hint of recognition, a frozen second where they’re just breathing and staring at each other in acknowledgement. Just before Minho slips a thumb underneath the collar, pressing his thumb lightly into his pulse point.

This is Kibum’s favorite part: when he can hear his pulse in his ears, strong and loud. He knows Minho isn’t holding him too tight, but it’s so present. He doesn’t break eye contact when he holds him this time, emphatic, the way Kibum likes.

The way Minho knows he likes.

“You weren’t looking at me earlier,” Kibum says, jaw set.

Minho’s thumb rubs along, soothing him. “I’m looking at you now.”

Kibum can feel himself flush. Minho’s looking at him almost carnivorously, so intense. He always does, when Kibum’s like this. There’s a hidden message in Minho’s words:  _ I wouldn’t have been able to restrain myself _ .

Eye contact wasn’t something he’d asked for, when they’d talked about it. He honestly had forgotten they  _ had _ talked about it until Minho was sitting there pulling at his collar. But they both know exactly how Kibum wants to be treated in these moments where he invites dominance, rare as they sometimes are.

Minho pulls his thumb out from Kibum’s pretty collar, and they’re on each other again, hungry.

Kibum feels a need deep in his bones, pulling at Minho’s jacket and shirt and belt, catching his lips every time Minho pushes him backwards into their room, cool from the open window, arm wrapped all the way around his waist.

Their legs get caught together while they walk, hips bumping. Kibum can feel Minho just as hard as he is, and that’s the part that’s reassuring. He can still be demanding, knowing that Minho’s just as desperate as he is.

He falls on his back, legs hanging off their bed, pushes his feet into Minho’s knees. “Strip,” he says, taking off his own nice boots and pants and nice shirt. He leaves the collar on while Minho gets himself undressed, reclined on the bed like he’s watching a show.

And then Minho’s on top of him, in between his spread legs, kisses Kibum until he’s dizzy, until they both are. Kibum can feel him playing with the clip on the back of the collar, squeezing it tight just for a second just to let it release.

Kibum almost whines at the loss of the feeling until Minho has his hand on his neck again, kissing him silly.

Minho’s lips are sweet from their dessert, chapped as usual, but still so soft. They kiss like the world is taking a pause, like they can fill the silence with their beating hearts and sharp tongues.

There’s something that Kibum knows as well, on top of how much Kibum loves this, loves provoking it, that Minho loves watching Kibum react. He’ll make a show of himself, all for Minho. And sometimes, it happens so naturally, that the performer in him just comes out.

He leans his throat into Minho’s hand, but it’s pulled away from him just a little bit, Minho choosing instead to kiss him harder.

“Minho,” Kibum gasps into his lips, feeling their cocks rub against each other. “Come on.”

He smirks again, and Kibum’s eyes are closed but he can feel it on his mouth. He can’t help but groan in frustration. He wants more, just a little bit, but can’t ask for it. Not just yet.

Kibum takes his own hand, then, trailing up to wrap around Minho’s. As if he hasn’t gotten the hint. He applies more pressure, but it’s not enough. Not with Minho’s hand so firm and restrained. It’s something they’ve been over before: Minho gets to be in charge of this, knows just how far he can push him.

It doesn’t keep Kibum from trying, though.

“Minho,” he says again, breathier than last time, enticing, sexy, curated for him. Kibum watches Minho’s eyes blow a little wide, but he still doesn’t move.

“What do you want, baby?” Minho asks, low in his throat, right up against Kibum’s ear. “Just ask.”

Kibum can feel himself heating up, burning restraint caught in his throat. His manicured nails run deep along Minho’s back, a representation of his refusal. He threatens to break skin. Minho likes that just as much.

The low groan and subsequent twitch of Minho’s tightening hand is a reward, one that’s dragged completely out of him. Kibum bares his throat, tosses his head back, and feels Minho adjust his grip so he doesn’t put too much pressure on his Adam’s apple. Always so careful with him.

Kibum lets his legs fall open farther now that Minho’s giving him what he wants, like he’s the one giving out rewards.

And Minho is so indulgent, sliding his other hand up Kibum’s bare thigh, every touch striking him like a match. His hands are so sure, so calculated. Pulls Kibum’s hips up to drag their cocks together and Kibum’s nails are out again when he whines and bucks.

Minho asks again, a little out of breath, having restrained himself for so long: “What do you want, Kibum?” He’s so hard against Kibum’s stomach, he can feel the pulse of him. “What do you need?”

“You,” Kibum says before he can stop himself, too far gone.

They’re sliding together now, a bit of wetness pooling on Kibum’s stomach, the heads of their cocks catching on each other just a little bit while they rock. It’s hardly anything. It’s hardly enough. And Minho lets up the pressure on his throat while they talk.

“Of course you do. Always so desperate,” Minho thinks he’s so slick like this, like he’s not just as desperate. Kibum just keeps heating up with no release. He wants to bite back so badly.

But there is something that he wants. He might have to ask for it.

Minho must notice the hesitation in his eyes, because he pulls his hand away a little bit, dragging it down the front of his chest. “What is it?”

He’s so sweet, Kibum thinks, caring and gentle. He pushes Minho up so he stands up next to the bed, right in between Kibum’s legs. He gets it before Kibum asks, ears turning red while Kibum runs his hands down to Minho’s sharp hips.

“You want to suck me off, huh?” His voice teeters on the next word: “Slut.”

Kibum bites the inside of his lip to keep from smirking and moaning at the nickname while he braces himself. He feels his own body giving him away, cock twitching between his legs. He puts one hand on Minho’s thigh, the other at the base of his hard dick, lifting him up so he can kiss the pink head.

“No, I want you to fuck my mouth,” he says it so smoothly, mismatched to his accelerated heartbeat that he’s sure Minho can hear. He looks up through his pretty eyelashes the best he can, enticing, pretty. “I want to choke on you.”

Minho lets out an awfully strangled moan when he pushes inside his mouth, no more warning than what he’s already been given. It’s a slow push past his wet lips, dick almost too thick for his little mouth.

That’s something Kibum remembers from the first time they got together: Minho’s sweet careful hesitation. Kibum’s pretty mouth, his tiny hole, his darling little cock. He was treated like a sweet little doll, delicate enough to break, like Minho might split him wide open.

Now, he grinds his cock as far into his mouth that he can fit. And Kibum can take it. And Minho knows he can.

He’s breathing steadily through his nose when Minho drags his fingers through Kibum’s hair, not nearly as sweet and gentle as he did when they were at the dinner. He gathers as much as he can before pushing in that much deeper, forcing Kibum’s nose into his soft curls.

Kibum could sit like this forever, eyes rolled back and breathing him in, swallowing shallowly around his cock. A warm sleeve. A slut just for Minho.

And even though Kibum can take him all, it’s still so much when Minho starts to fuck into his throat. He closes up instinctually at the first few passes, as it’s so rare that he gets treated like this, choking a bit at the force of his cock pushing all the way in.

It’s  _ filthy _ .

Kibum can feel drool start to slip out the corners of his mouth, unable to swallow with Minho so deep inside. The feeling of Minho’s strong fingers pulling at his hair straight from their roots makes it difficult to even catch his breath. The only thing his throat knows how to do is take it and moan.

He doesn’t even realize his eyes have rolled back until Minho pulls and angles his head to face him. The cock in his mouth hits the roof, making him feel so much more full, so much more overwhelmed.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby,” Minho says, and Kibum’s bones turn to jelly. His jaw goes slack and his throat relaxes somehow, and Minho grinds in even farther, not letting up. “You love this so much, don’t you? Can’t get enough. Pretty little slut.”

If he weren’t so overwhelmed, Kibum would be endeared. He loves the way Minho babbles when he gets close, trying to bring Kibum along with him, almost on instinct. Kibum will be is slut almost as a reward for treating him so well, for trying so hard.

Kibum moans around him, letting the bitterness of his precome hit the back of his tongue.

Minho pulls out to thrust back in, then, and Kibum can tell by the twitch of his eyebrow and the grip on his hair that he’s getting close. He can’t do much to help him along, knowing that Minho’s just taking what he wants. He braces his hands on Minho’s hips, hoping he’s bruising, hoping his nails sink in and push Minho over.

There’s no warning when he does come, though, other than the signs Kibum is so used to. He doesn’t try to pull out to paint his face or grind in to force Kibum to swallow. Minho comes in waves, snapping his hips, pushing into Kibum’s cheek and his tongue and coming and  _ coming _ with a long and low moan.

He feels it spill out the sides of his mouth, and Minho releases his hair, and Kibum’s pushed back into the mattress, trying to swallow it past the roughness in his throat.

“Is that what you wanted?” Minho asks, sweet, breathing heavy. Kibum can hardly hear him over the roaring in his ears. “You took me so well, baby.”

Kibum feels Minho lick into his mouth, trying to clean him up. His jaw is slack and he’s all of a sudden so aware of how hard he is, how he almost came just from that feeling of getting his throat fucked so thoroughly.

“You’re still so hard. So pretty,” Minho continues, eyeing his leaking dick but refusing to touch. “What do you need?”

He spreads his legs again, tries to wrap his heel around Minho’s thigh, trying to bring him close. “Fuck me.”

Minho’s still kissing him, trailing down his neck, pressing his lips hard into his pulse point, leaving nibbles on his collarbones. “Oh you’re just always a little cockslut, I see.”

“Come on,” Kibum says, exasperated. “I let you fuck my mouth.”

“I think I actually let you get your mouth fucked.”

Kibum groans, back arching like it’ll snap, so hard it hurts. He grabs at Minho’s bruising hips. “Come  _ on _ . I’m not going to beg.”

“Oh, you’re above that, I guess.” Minho smiles into another kiss. “I can just drag it out, if you want to be a brat about it.”

He does know he’s being a brat, at least. He never does make it easy for Minho. Never wants to. Even like this. When he knows it’s a losing battle.

When Kibum doesn’t respond, Minho moves off of him, taking his body heat with him and leaving Kibum for a second of torturous cold. He closes his eyes and runs his hands along where Minho was leaving hickeys to keep himself from whining and actually turning around to beg him to come back.

The next thing he feels isn’t Minho’s broad hand on his leg or stomach or neck letting him know he’s there, but a cold finger sliding past his tight ring of muscle, stopping short but already on the second knuckle.

Minho’s close to him by the time he opens his eyes. His voice is soft. “This is what you wanted?”

Kibum nods, surprised, wound tight, unable to speak. His head repeats  _ yes yes yes yes _ , and part of him hopes Minho can tell.

Minho’s fingers are such magic, so sure and strong in their movements. Even Kibum’s tight little hole opens up so easily, the way it always does, under Minho’s patient ministrations.

It’s embarrassing, the sounds Kibum makes while getting opened up like this. His voice is shot but he can hear himself whimpering, throaty gasps under the drags of Minho’s fingers. Stretching him wide when he’s already so close is always a gamble, because he can certainly be made to come more than once, but they both know how much it takes out of him.

Their bedsheets are scratching against his arms, and his toes nearly cramp, and he feels like the string of a bow, pulled back so tight that there’s nothing left to do but release.

“Minho,” Kibum warns, letting his voice sound frantic. “Please, I’m going to come.”

He leans down to kiss his chest, offering a honey-dipped solution. “Okay sweetheart, come for me. You’ll come again, I promise. Just like you wanted.”

Kibum almost holds back, but Minho’s fingers curl up inside him and drag along his prostate like a matchstick, and the bow snaps with his hips, a fierce orgasm ripping through him.

It doesn’t end, either. There’s no break. Minho’s fingers are still inside as he rides out the feeling for seconds or maybe hours, knees buckling under nothing and hips jumping at the unrelenting pressure inside him.

“ _ Minho _ ,” Kibum’s voice cracks. “Please, please fuck me. This is too much.”

“Is it?” Minho asks, refusing to let up unless Kibum gives him a reason to.

His resolve is breaking, the way it does when Minho’s this persistent with him. Pushing him harder and harder, knowing he’ll come crashing down eventually. A babbling mess, begging for his cock.

“ _ Please _ ,” he says again, this time louder like Minho just couldn’t hear well last time. His bones are shaking and Kibum’s not quite convinced that he’d be able to sit still enough to get fucked. Minho loves an unrelenting pace, one that threatens to pull his string taught again before his first orgasm rocks its way entirely out of him.

On one level, he knows how hard he just came, can feel the sticky come on his chest, is aware of the way his leg won’t stop shaking. But when Minho replaces his fingers with his wet cock, he’s turned on with new vigor he didn’t realize. His pretty cock is hard still at his hip, a flaming oversensitive pink, and his heart-rate feels dangerously high. It pulses in his ears, even without a thumb pressing into his throat.

Minho knows how much Kibum loves to be on his back, loves to be fucked up the mattress with every thrust, loves to be handled and gripped and given something solid to clutch desperately to.

Kibum knows he’s being loud. Hears the moans tearing from his throat, but he couldn’t quiet himself if he tried. Maybe only if Minho wrapped his hand around his throat again. Maybe that would do it. Just the thought has him moaning louder, finally full, finally getting what he wanted.

Minho loves it too, very simply. So very clearly.

Their hips slap together and it echoes in the room, and Kibum can feel the bruising forming already on his hips, just adding to the feelings. From the pain of the overstimulation, to their bruising and scratching and rough thumb prints, and Minho’s hand gripped hard on his hair.

The room is spinning, it’s all so much.

Between Minho’s grueling pace, the filthy sound of lube sliding between them, and Minho’s hot breath in his ear, it takes nothing for them to get close together. Egging each other on. Swallowing each other’s moans and biting each other’s lips.

Minho asks, because of course he has to babble, “are you close, babe?”

And Kibum responds, because the dam has broken, “ _ yes, yes _ ,” and keeps going because he can’t help himself. “Come inside.  _ Please. _ ”

That sends them both, the feeling of Minho bracing Kibum’s hips to stutter and fill him up as best he can, Kibum’s tight heat milking and squeezing Minho’s come right back out onto their sheets. And that sends him over too, scratching Minho’s arms and chest, and he’ll apologise for that later.

All they can do now is ride it out, weak down to their bones.

Minho presses kisses to the top of Kibum’s head where he’s been yanking his hair, down to his temples and his jaw and the blooming hickeys on his throat. Back to being gentle.

They can be so sweet after, pressing into each other’s skin. Kibum can feel every inch of his skin light up at Minho’s firm hands, relax so fully into their mattress. The two of them scuttle up so their heads are pressed against their pillows, and Kibum’s clinging to him like his life depends on it.

Kibum’s so fucked out, could just collapse while cockwarming Minho. But Minho pulls away, just for a moment, leaving him empty.

He whines into the closest pillow, knowing exactly what Minho’s getting up for. “You can clean me up tomorrow.”

“You know I can’t,” Minho says, padding back over to wipe off his sticky chest with something warm and wet. “You know you’d kill me in a few hours if I just left you like this.”

“Well hurry up. I’m gonna get cold.”

Minho’s voice is close to him again and there’s a shift in the mattress before Kibum’s pulled into his chest. “You don’t want me to give you a massage? Get you into a bath?” He’s teasing, taunting Kibum with promises he knows they’re too tired to keep.

Kibum hums softly, already dozing. “You better do it in the morning.”

If Minho responds, Kibum doesn’t hear it, exhausted through his entire body, drifting easily to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> part 2 coming soon... the morning after <3  
> no i don't know how to write porn in less than two parts... one day i'll learn
> 
> thank you to tony and mason for assuring me that this wasn't awful and BIG happy LATE birthday to sadie i'm presenting you with hopefully just like an insane amount of porn this month
> 
> follow me @chwesbian on twitter if you're into that kind of thing


End file.
